


volatility

by brightstarks



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison Argent & Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Bickering, Derek Hale & Scott McCall Friendship, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mysterious Deaton, Socially Awkward Derek Hale, Stalker Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Has ADHD, True Alpha Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 02:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14010615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightstarks/pseuds/brightstarks
Summary: Stiles makes one comment about maybe possibly being a little more proactive about this whole supernatural thing, and suddenly Scott's got him as some kind of magical apprentice to Deaton. He's not very good at it.Scott is handling leadership surprisingly well, Allison is terrifyingly competent, Erica is just terrifying, and Derek just seems to always be around.xOr, Stiles still doesn't really have a handle on this whole werewolf thing.





	volatility

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write something very classic sterek, in that golden era right around the end of season 2, but I wanted them to be older. So, this universe diverges from canon at that point, but incorporates aspects of later seasons, and takes place in senior year. Derek has just come back to Beacon Hills, but he brought his pack with him when he left, so their return has upset the balance a bit. He and Scott are still working out the kinks inherent in a territory with two alphas, but both are really invested in making it work. Since Derek's kept his alpha powers, I'm not delving too much into the alpha pack.
> 
> This is one of the first things I've ever written (probably my very first prose) so it's not very... elegant. But it's fun, and quirky, and I'm going to finish it anyway. Have fun!

_And I heard it from a friend_  
_That he talks to the primary school kids through the fence_  
_Yeah you shoulda seen his book collection_  
_It was all ‘how to socialise and how to make friends’_  
_Yeah I guess we both got our problems_  
_And areas to improve_  
_And I know one of mine is to go a night without sympathising with you._

 

 

I.

 

 

 

Derek is creeping again.

Stiles really shouldn’t be surprised, considering creeper-Derek had been a staple of Beacon Hills in the days before he’d taken his pack and skipped town. It’s almost nostalgic. Stiles is a little skeeved out that Derek seems to be hovering around _him_ , though. Derek’s habitual stalking back in the day had primarily involved the teenaged werewolf that Stiles spent most of his time with. Not, you know, Stiles. Before Derek had packed everything up and disappeared god knows where, he’d just barge into Stiles’ room entirely uninvited and start growling demands.

_What have you got Stiles._

_This is important Stiles._

_This wendigo is eating people Stiles._

_I’m going to rip your throat out with my teeth Stiles._

So, maybe that last one is more of a threat, but Stiles is pretty sure that Derek wouldn’t do it. Like seventy five percent sure. Derek's toned down on the physical violence since popping back up in Beacon Hills. Or at least, he hasn’t been throwing Stiles against walls as hard, which counts as a win in his book. With less bruises to consider, however, Stiles’ thoughts are left to wander toward unsafe territory during his time spent sandwiched between Derek and various walls. Which, granted, isn’t entirely unexpected. He is after all a healthy teenager. He has needs okay?

It is, however, entirely unwelcome. Stiles prefers his throat the way it is: encasing his esophagus, trachea, carotid artery, jugular vein, and seven cervical vertebrae. Intact. If Derek catches any whiff of teenage hormones, desire, arousal, anything really out of the ordinary that could possibly offend his wolfy sensibilities, Stiles is almost certainly dead. Besides, regardless of how incredible a specimen of physicality he may be, Derek has the personality of very angry tapioca pudding. And really, who likes tapioca pudding in the first place, much less any that has those judgmental eyebrows?

It's hard to remember all of that sometimes, though, when Derek’s face is inches from his own. When they're spitting venomous insults one on top of the next, seemingly fighting for the space between them like it's territory. Their verbal sparring is quick and dirty, fluctuating from sarcastic and almost friendly to the previously mentioned near-violent kind that includes wall slamming. Neither of them ever really wins. Either Scott shuts them up by pleading with them to get back to business, or Derek just huffs and disappears out of Stiles' window like the mature adult he is.

But right now Derek isn’t disappearing. He's just sitting in his car a little ways down the street, not doing anything. This isn’t the first time, either; last week when Stiles got home from school he’d caught a glimpse of the Camaro’s taillights zipping away. The fact that Stiles is noticing at all means he's being really obvious. Last time he’d checked, Derek was definitely a supernatural creature of the lupine variety, and that kind of came prepackaged with skills that lent themselves well to stealth.

Which makes his current predicament extremely odd. Maybe Derek wants to get caught. Get called out on his strange behavior. Maybe he's feeling pissed off and useless and itching for a fight. With everything that's been going on recently, Stiles can relate. These days it feels like they're just waiting for something to go wrong. He's looking for ways to be more proactive, find new spells to prevent supernatural shenanigans from occurring in the first place, but Derek has been surprisingly uncooperative about it. He's still insistent on handling things by himself.

Scott’s with Stiles, though, so they’ve kept at it. Stiles, of course, takes great delight in tormenting Derek with this. They’re volatile. It’s a thing. Stiles tries not to make a big deal out of it.

It worries Scott, though. And whatever feeling it induces in Erica is definitely not worry, if those dramatic eye rolls are to be believed.

 

 

➳

 

 

Every other Wednesday, Scott spends lunch in a captain’s meeting with Finstock going over plans for practice and game strategies. The last time Stiles tagged along, he’d spent the whole time making lacrosse related puns and insinuating things about how Finstock spent his personal time. Unsurprisingly, Scott isn’t allowed to bring him anymore. This leaves Stiles eating lunch alone in the cafeteria and grumbling to himself about unappreciated genius, when—

"Hey, wonderboy."

Stiles nearly jumps out of his skin when a very human hand that somehow still has claws slams onto the table next to his lunch. He retains his skin, but taco day is officially ruined. There's really no getting milk out of tacos.

"Derek wants to talk to you and your boyfriend."

"Oh, Erica, lovely to see you as always. I'm doing great. Thanks for asking. No, I wasn't going to eat that, actually,” he replies, padding his shirt with the tiny napkins that seem to always accompany school lunches. It proclaims Stud Muffin in milky lettering. He sighs. At least milk doesn’t stain, as far as he knows.

Erica pulls away to study her nails. They're red. Of course they're red.

"Hey, doesn't that just shred off when the claws come out? Or does it disappear and come back like Derek's eyebrows because I swear—  

"Stilinski. Are you going to go see Derek or not? Because as cute as you are, all that goes away when you open your mouth."

Stiles objects to that.

"I object to that. I think the chatter is part of my charm. My extremely effective charm." Erica rolls her eyes. Did she learn that from Derek? Because that was some serious commitment to an eye roll. There was shoulder movement. "And hey, doesn't Derek have a phone? Can't he just text Scott? Does he send out his minions for added looming, big bad alpha effect? Or did he give up cellular connection along with an actual dwelling and regular hygiene because seriously, where on earth is he showering?"

Erica sighs. "Four o'clock at the train depot." She struts away, and Stiles is left to wonder about how even after the reveal of werewolves, kanimas, and various other supernatural baddies, this one aspect of his life hasn't changed a bit.

"Hey, why didn't you just ask Scott?

 

➳

 

 

School lets out and four o'clock finds Scott and Stiles at Deaton's clinic. They've been here for several hours and Scott is cuddling adorable kittens under the guise of doing actual veterinary work. Stiles is busy wondering what he did to deserve this.

"Focus on the candle wick."

Stiles throws up his hands. "I am focusing. I've been focusing. This isn't going to work. Why can't you do these spells yourself? Aren't you supposed to be our wizard trump card?"

Deaton looks unimpressed. It's an expression Stiles is painfully familiar with. Ever since Stiles brought up the idea of prevention instead of reaction to all the supernatural weirdness that plagued Beacon Hills, Scott has been dragging him to Deaton's to learn spells. He seems to be under the impression that Stiles has some kind of knack for this, and Scott agrees. Stiles, however, does not. He’s certain the mountain ash thing was just a fluke. The very much not lit candle seems to agree with him—they’ve been at this specific exercise for a week, and Stiles could frankly use some variety.

“What the hell is Derek doing here?”

Speaking of. Stiles looks up to Scott glaring at the door and remembers that he’d never actually passed along Erica’s message, partially due to Derek's overall creep factor and the funny feeling he gets in his stomach when he thinks about him. The guy really did skulk around, who could blame a guy for being cautious? He was just... wary, is all.

“Uh, about that…”

Scott only has time to send him a confused glance before Derek bursts in the door. He looks vaguely irritated, and doesn't spare the room anything but a cursory glance before immediately focusing in on Scott.

“Why didn't you meet me today?”

Scott manages to look even more confused. He gently places the tabby kitten he was cradling back in its kennel. It mewls pathetically, and it's adorable. “I was supposed to meet you?”

Derek narrows his eyes. “Yes, I sent Erica…” He studies the room more intently and locks in on where Stiles has been steadily shrinking into his chair since this exchange began. He makes to say something, but Deaton interrupts.

“Derek, I realize that there has been some kind of failure to communicate here, but perhaps it could be addressed at another time? We’re in the middle of a lesson today.”

“Lesson – “ Derek pauses. He... hasn't stopped watching Stiles. Stiles is considering the merits of making a break for the back room where Deaton boards the cats. He'll be safe there; Derek likely won't be willing to become the catalyst of World War 3: the Feline Armageddon. It ends up not being necessary, as Derek barks out an abrupt, “Fine,” and immediately turns and stalks out of the clinic.

It's quiet for a moment, and then—

“Wow, that sure was weird, huh?” Stiles tries to deflect, but one look at Scott tells him that's not happening.

"Erica talked to you, didn't she? Why didn't you tell me?" Scott's giving him the disappointed alpha look, which was entirely unfair. Stiles isn't even a wolf, that should really not be working.

Stiles gestures helplessly. "I forgot?"

The look transforms into something more disbelieving.

Stiles pretends like he's focusing on the candle again. "Okay, so maybe I still don't trust Derek. But, I mean, it's Derek!" he flails more at this, "he's not exactly a trustworthy guy!"

Scott crosses his arms and manages to appear decently stern. "Look, I’m not really his biggest fan either, but he still knows more about all of this werewolf stuff than any of us!" he huffs,"We can't exactly rely on you and Google to get us through this."

“It’s gotten us this far!” Stiles interrupts. He knows, though, that Scott’s right. Knows they’re reaching the end of their rope. It’s why he’d even agreed to being here at all, learning weird wizard stuff from Deaton when he was perfectly comfortable researching it on his own. He sighs. “Okay, so you’re right. We do need another source of werewolf knowledge. But c’mon dude, it couldn’t have been that important if he sent Erica to _me_ instead of like, crawling through a window or looming in dark corners watching you at practice. You can just go talk to him later.”

Scott looks at him for a good minute before he speaks, eyebrows furrowed. “Alright.  Just... don’t forget we’re a team dude. You don’t need to take everything on yourself,” he puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, “I’m gonna go catch up with him and see if it was anything really important. You’re good here right?”

Stiles glances up at him and nods. “Yeah, yeah I’m good man. Go do true alpha stuff with your fairy god wolf. I’ll keep working this whole candle thing.” He gestures vaguely to the obstinately not-lit candlestick. That earns him a smile as Scott heads for the door. Another silence fills the room.

“Are you ready to try again?” He turns to see Deaton watching with a calculating gaze. It’s not like that's particularly unusual though. 

Stiles looks at the candle for a long moment. It doesn’t offer anything useful.

“Yeah. Let’s do this.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> the song at the beginning of the chapter is called How to Socialize and How to Make Friends by Camp Cope. theyre a ridiculously awesome group of australian ladies, and you should also check out their song called The Opener if you wanna be mad at men. part of the next chapter is already typed! im so close to finishing it haha. stay tuned! ♥
> 
> im on [tumblr](https://brightstarks.tumblr.com).


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